


Marginalia

by filigree (figureinthecarpet)



Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 19:29:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4150044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/figureinthecarpet/pseuds/filigree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flotsam from a story that never happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marginalia

They met at a Petipa workshop, sandwiched between an aspiring swan queen and the second coming of Marcel Marceau. 

As the coordinator blathered on about music and meaning, he let his mind wander, all over the pseudo art deco ceiling, a turn about his appointments, and for a change, and to the periphery of his vision to his neighbors.

Two seats down, there was a hand, furiously scribbling on no apparent paper. No thoughtful exegesis was compatible with the prepared text, delivered in dogged monotone, but satire was possible and even desired after this mistake in scheduling. He shifted - the seats were the epitome of airline luxury - until he had extricated one hip, then tilted to get a better look.

There was an ink doodle on bare leg and the lines and smudges slowly resolved into a ballerina in arabesque. A leash was suspended in one hand and now there was a vague ball of poodle taking shape below it.

He studied the ballerina some more. He thought he recognized the tilt of the head and the studied exaggeration in those hands. Then the artist switched to a red marker for the collar and he thought he had recognized the dog as well. He had had lunch with both just the week before.

With the shock of recognition came the thought that the artist's hand was delicately made, the ink-splatters on the fingers almost attractive in her continued mischief. 

He sat back again, savoring the drawing and the hand until the workshop ended. He did not look to find the artist, though for quite some time after he found his glance wandering down to bare legs, still looking for a tutu.


End file.
